Serve and Volley
by TROZ Inc
Summary: A PoT CSI crossover. Crime Scene no Ohjisama! The Senbatsu team is touring the USA, bringing them to Las Vegas. A murder throws the team into disarray and only our favorite CSIs can solve the mystery. Character death, but minimal angst. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

-1_Title: Serve and Volley _or _Crime Scene no Ohjisama!!!_

_Authors: The combined forces of EllipsesBandit…and Microgirl, collectively known as TROZInc._

_Disclaimer: Neither CSI, PoT, or any other acronyms in this fic belong to us. _

_Genre: Mystery/Romance. _

_Pairings: CSI: GSR_

_ PoT: TezuFuji and some very slight allusions to other pairs._

_Summary: The Senbatsu team is touring the United States, bringing them to Las Vegas. A murder throws the team into disarray and only our favorite CSI's can solve the mystery. _

_Rather obviously, tennis character death is involved, but it's all in fun, so no hard feelings. Minimal angst, we promise. Echizen fans might want to avoid this one._

_Author's Notes: So after plugging this fic …umm… many months ago, we finally have a chapter ready! Who knew planning a murder was this difficult? This is why we aren't serial killers. Thank Iruka-chan2 for sending out a search team and making sure we were still working. Someday, we'll even update again ;)_

_This fic grew out of a combined desire to mix up two OTP's in very different universes. I should mention that for obvious reasons, the tennis boys are in university for this. Fifteen year olds involved in CSI didn't work for us. For further details on the fic's creation, check our bio page. And if you enjoy (or even just participate in both fandoms) drop us a review. Reviews are like Nana Olaf's chocolate white chocolate chip cookies, you always crave more. _

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Given a choice, Yuushi Oshitari would elect to play doubles over singles. Doubles, he felt, was a far more intellectually stimulating game of tennis. It required the competitors to predict not one, but three other players, allowing a higher level of both cunning and strategy. It required patience, trust, and a supreme amount of cooperation, all three of which he had yet to experience with his current partner.

Not only was Eiji Kikumaru loud, spastic, and generally annoying, he also didn't seem to care one wit that they were being repeatedly trounced by Atobe and Sanada. It was embarrassing, and Oshitari decided to feign a flare up of his ankle injury rather than continue the farce of a practice match, returning to the locker room ahead of his teammates.

The U.S. tour of the Japanese Senbatsu Tennis Team was supposed to give him a chance to expand his skills, earn some attention, see the world. Instead, he'd spent most of the tour holed up in his hotel room, trying to keep his headaches to a minimum while everyone talked about that upstart Echizen. Oshitari missed Japan. He missed his regular doubles partner. He even missed the rest of the Hyotei regulars. This trip could not possibly get any worse.

He opened the door to the changing stall...

…and screamed.

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"Ryoma Echizen. Eighteen years old from Tokyo, Japan. In Vegas touring with a college tennis team," Captain Jim Brass announced to the arriving crime scene investigators. Gil Grissom took in the surrounding scene: an ordinary locker room of a modest hotel. Off-white linoleum tile, a few rows of foot square lockers, and a row of changing stalls. Nothing out of the ordinary except for the young man's body slumped in the last stall.

"Who discovered the body?" Grissom asked.

"One of his teammates: Yuushi Oshitari. He left practice at 7:30 this morning claiming an injury and found the body here. Kid never showed up for practice, so he was probably attacked early this morning." Brass turned towards the door. "I'm going to go start talking to some of the other team members, see if anyone had a grudge."

The entomologist knelt down, his blue eyes observing the body. "He wasn't killed in the stall."

"What makes you say that?" Sara Sidle, Grissom's fellow investigator, asked. She crouched next to him, her knees brushing against his. Grissom noticed the contact, raising an eyebrow.

"Position of the body. He was thrown into this corner to keep him out of sight."

"Like a piece of trash," Sara muttered, lips tightening in anger. She was fifteen years Grissom's junior, but one of his most trusted investigators in his lab..

Grissom took out his mag-light, running its beam over the victim's neck and highlighting the thin, solid ring of a purple bruise there. "Looks like he was strangled with some sort of wire. Any sign of a murder weapon?"

Sara scanned the stall. "Doesn't appear so, but what's in his hand?"

Grissom followed her eyeline to the hand closest to him to see the fingers curled around what appeared to be a piece of dark blue cloth. He photographed the position, then pried the fingers loose revealing a wristband with a set of Japanese characters stitched in white. "Seishun Gakuen," Grissom stated.

"Subtitles?" Sara asked.

"Youth Academy. Name of his school, perhaps?" Grissom sealed the item in a plastic bag.

"Or his killer's school."

"Or both." He examined the kid's hands and arms. "No bruises or skin under the fingernails. There wasn't much of a struggle." After a few more seconds of observation he said, "Call it."

Sara took a moment to think. "Well, victim was in the locker room alone for an early practice. Killer surprised him from behind, strangled him, then dumped the body in the stall before taking off."

"And the wristband?"  
"The kid pulled it off of his attacker during the struggle."

"…or the killer left it to prove the better school."

"Let's see who's missing a wristband."

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"Ore-sama demands his cell phone immediately!" shouted a red-faced boy in Brass's face. Brass appeared half amused and half puzzled by the blend of Japanese and English.

"Atobe," stated a calmer boy in a baseball cap from the sofa.

"What?"

"Urusee-yo."

Whatever that meant, it clearly upset the shouting boy, who abandoned Brass to yell at his teammate. "He told him to shut up," Grissom translated as the two investigators approached the police captain.

"I see how well that's working," Brass commented as the two tennis players continued the argument, one shouting, the other quietly muttering comebacks. The investigators stepped out of earshot of the feud.

"So, what do we know about this … tournament?" Sara asked.

"Goodwill games," Brass answered. "Japan's top eight college tennis stars touring the country to play against the U.S.'s top college tennis stars. Four universities represented."

"How many players from Seishun Academy?" Grissom asked.

"Three," Brass replied without questioning how Grissom knew one of the schools. "Including the vic. And one of the coaches would make four." Brass pointed to two players huddled on the couch opposite the shouting match. "Those two over there." Brass glanced at his notes, frowning at the names before slowly sounding out, "Ee-ji Ki-ku-ma-ru and Sai-you-su-ke Fuji." One of them, the one Brass identified as Fuji, was whispering soothingly to the other, a red-haired boy who looked like he'd recently finished crying. All of the players milling about the room were dressed in the same red and white warm-ups that the victim had been found in.

Sara turned to the captain. "And how many from other schools?"

"You're really going to make me pronounce the rest of these names?"

Grissom took the paper from the captain. With perfect pronunciation, the CSI recited, "Five more players. Kiyosumi Sengoku, Akaya Kirihara, Genichiroh Sanada, Yuushi Oshitari, and Keigo Atobe. And that last one is pronounced Syusuke -- _Shi-yu-su-ke_"

"Show off," Brass muttered.

Meanwhile, the shouting boy, whom Brass identified as Atobe, continued ranting at his teammate, now slipping between English and Japanese at an alarming rate. "Ore-sama does not expect a peasant like you to understand the importance of personal security! Ore-sama would not be surprised if someone from your peasant school was involved in a crime such as this!"

Another boy, this one with curly black hair, leapt between them at this point, shouting something threatening in Japanese that made Atobe take a few steps back before snapping back, "Ore-sama will not waste his breath on common delinquents like _you_!"

"What does 'ore-sama' mean?" Sara whispered to her colleague.

Grissom pondered the word for a moment. "It's hard to translate. Loosely speaking it'd be something like 'the lord that is me.'"

"You've got to be kidding," Brass grumbled, "The kid's like 20 years old."

"Akaya," the first boy said. The name appeared to be something of an order that caused the shorter tennis player to sit down in a huff. Atobe, apparently having enough of that argument, turned back to yell at Brass.

"As ore-sama was saying before he was so rudely interrupted, ore-sama demands to be able to contact his father. And what sort of security precautions are you people taking anyway? The killer could be anywhere and you …"

Grissom tapped the open-mouthed Brass on the shoulder. "We're going to go investigate the vic's room. Catherine and Greg are on their way to help you collect statements. Try not to offend his lordship in the meantime." Atobe did not appear to be listening to a word the CSI's said, continuing his rant.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure _ory-sama_ is taken care of."

"O-_re_-sama believes you mispronounced that," Grissom deadpanned. He and Sara slipped away towards the elevator, the sounds of the young tennis players' argument receding behind them.

"Egos seem to be developing younger and younger these days," Sara sighed as she hit the up button.

"If he is who I think he is, he could certainly justify it to himself," Grissom said. "I seem to remember an Atobe family that was something like the 5th richest in Asia. International trade."

"And you know this how?"

"I spent a month there studying the mating habits of Kabuto beetles. They were in the news a lot -- the family, not the beetles. Tabloids, mostly."

The elevator doors opened and the two stepped inside. "At least you don't start referring to yourself as grand high master of entomology."

"Ore-sama doesn't need to remind people of his vast knowledge," Grissom replied, leaning over Sara's shoulder to hit the fourth floor button. He didn't lean back completely once he'd finished, allowing her shoulder to rest against his. Sara permitted herself a small smile as the doors closed on them.

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Kikumaru had finally gotten himself to stop crying about ten minutes ago. Now that the initial shock had worn off, he found himself numbly pondering exactly what kind of a person could do something like this to a kid like Ryoma. He had no enemies that Eiji had been aware of, at least no more than tennis rivals. But they all had rivals. He refused to believe that someone in the tennis club could be responsible for something like this.

"Ne, Eiji, can I ask you a favor?" Fuji whispered quietly as the two waited for Atobe to stop yelling at the police captain.

"Huh? What?"

"Make sure you tell them I was in our room last night." Fuji's eyes had an uncommon sense of urgency to them.

Eiji tilted his head. Fuji usually snuck out after hours for one reason or another, but surely no one would suspect him. Fuji never hurt anyone. Well, except that guy from St. Rudolph's after he picked on Fuji's brother. And that senior that injured Tezuka's arm. And Kirihara after he nearly shattered Ryoma's knee cap during that practice match. But Fuji always had a good reason, and he always used tennis.

"Eiji?"

"Huh? Oh, of course Fuji. I mean, as long as you're not in trouble or anything."

"Of course not," Fuji laughed, patting Eiji on the shoulder, "I just don't want to make this situation more complicated then it already is. We'll just let the police do their jobs."

Eiji nodded. He and Fuji had been friends since middle school, and Fuji had never gotten him in trouble before. In fact, Fuji was usually the person to get him out of trouble. If his friend needed his help, Eiji trusted him enough to give it…

… even if the request was a little unsettling under the circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

_Serve and Volley Chapter 2_

_Summary: In which the CSIs continue the interviews, and many bets are placed_

_A/N: Look! We updated (that's good!). It would have been sooner if either of the authors had attention spans longer than that of a caffeinated mongoose (that's bad). We write well on our own (that's good!), and then get horribly distracted when in the same room together (that's bad). Ah well, glad to see any response at all to the first chapter, so thanks for all the reviews. Hope the next chapter doesn't disappoint. _

_EB…: I'd also like to apologize to Yuushi fangirls. I just continue to feel that everything he says sounds like a pick up line. Also Sengoku is our token heterosexual because I'm keeping him for me. Dammit, Konomi, I get to keep one!_

_MG: Someday, I'll actually sit down and figure out a better way of describing Grissom without using "blue eyes and salt and pepper curls." For now I must resort to "Blue eyes and graying hair." There will be a time where I will grow as a writer…maybe._

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Greg Sanders was feeling intensely uncomfortable. The youngest member of the CSI team had been interviewing Yuushi Oshitari for less than three minutes, but was rapidly becoming convinced that the college kid was hitting on him.   
It wasn't the _words_ he was saying, but the tone made everything sound distinctly and disturbingly perverted.

"What were you doing in the locker room so early?" Greg asked.

The boy adjusted a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, "I find the company of my current doubles partner somewhat … trying and was developing a headache. It is, as I'm sure you know, difficult to find another person whose … style complements one's own."

_There! That had to be a pick-up line._ Maybe not if a normal person said it, but this guy pronounced every vowel for just a little too long and kept coupling the comments with odd eyebrow raises. The CSI attempted to defuse this bend in the conversation as quickly as possible, "Did you see anyone else in the locker room at the time?"

"At the time, no. I was attempting to enjoy the solitude."

_Enjoy the solitude? Who talks like that?_ Greg was writing that off to poor English skills. Oh, he hoped most of these weird emphases were just poor English skills. "Tell me what happened after you entered the locker room."

"I prefer my privacy and decided to use one of the establishment's changing stalls. When I opened the door, I saw," here he stuttered slightly, "I saw Echizen inside. I alerted the coaches immediately. Frankly, I can't understand how something like this could have happened. It makes one feel … unsafe alone. Don't you agree?"

Greg was feeling somewhat unsafe at the moment with the kid looking at him like that. He thanked him quickly and darted over to where Catherine and Brass were dividing up statements.

"I think the kid who found the body is clear," he said quickly.

Catherine frowned, "What makes you say that?"

Shifting his weight to the other foot, Greg answered, "I just know."

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"Dan-kun, calm down," Sengoku said for about the third time. The freshmen's fists, however, had not unclenched all morning and were unlikely to anytime soon.

"Sumimasen, Sengoku-san," Dan replied, though he didn't seem able to stop moving, shifting his weight and tightening his fists. Taichi Dan was the smallest person here, and according to Catherine's notes, the only student not participating in the tournaments. His role seemed to be that of a glorified errand boy. Kiyosumi Sengoku, a senior from Dan's school, was the exact opposite. Tall and athletic, he kept himself collected and had spent all the time since Catherine had arrived at the scene calming the underclassmen.

"Pardon him," the senior said to Catherine. "Echizen was something of an idol for him, so he's taking it pretty hard."

"It's normal," Catherine assured them both. "And you? Did you know him well?"

"Saa, not really," Sengoku shrugged. "He was rooming with me this tour, but he kept to himself, pretty much. Never wanted to go to parties or anything like that. We had some mutual friends, but that's all."

"What time did he leave your room last night?"

Sengoku considered. "I'm not sure exactly. Eleven? Maybe 12? He seemed kinda upset that I was on the phone with this girl I met a couple days ago and he stalked off."

"And you didn't think it was strange that he didn't come back?"

"Not really. Echizen isn't ... wasn't the only one of us who liked to put in extra training. I figured he met up with someone else and stayed with them to avoid me. He was never too keen on being my roommate."

"Did either of you leave your rooms for any reason last night?"

"No. I was on the phone till around one. And Dan-kun's staying with Coach Sakaki so he probably couldn't sneak out if he wanted to." He translated the question for his younger teammate, who shook his head, using a green sweatband to wipe his eyes.

Catherine thanked them, and moved back to discuss to the other investigators. Brass looked like he had his hands full trying to question Keigo Atobe.

"Of course I was in my room all last night. A good night's sleep is essential to the maintenance of tennis skills as impressive as mine. And ore-sama does not appreciate being suspected in this matter."

Catherine noticed Brass closing his eyes in restraint. He had the same look when he was receiving his commendation from the mayor: like he wanted to either puke or punch someone, most likely the latter.

"Can your roommate confirm your location?" Brass asked through gritted teeth.

Atobe huffed, then snapped his fingers. "Oshitari!"

The dark-haired boy sighed, moving away from where he had cornered Greg to stand next to his teammate. "Yes?" he sighed in an exaggerated drawl.

"Ore-sama was in the room with you all night." It wasn't a question.

Oshitari turned to Brass. "We were both in the room. All night." He bowed apologetically.

Atobe didn't give either of them a chance to speak again before shouting, "There. Satisfied? Now ore-sama requires his cell phone immediately."

Deciding this had gone on long enough, Catherine approached the trio. "So, you're pretty good at tennis?" she asked.

Atobe's nose rose a good quarter-inch higher. "That's a rather large understatement."

"Really?"

"You've heard of the Hametsu e no Rondo?"  
"No."

"Ore-sama _invented _that."

"So was the victim one of your rivals?"

Atobe laughed slightly. "Echizen? He was about ten years too early to play me. He was only allowed to be here because he's Tezuka's pet."

"According to the coaches, he was a rising star, set to replace any one of you."

"Not ore-sama. Perhaps one of his fellow Seigaku." A thought appeared to occur to him. "If he was to replace anyone, it would be Fuji. The two of them were always fighting for Tezuka's ... attention. And Fuji took his usual slot."

Catherine filed the information away. "Thank you. And you will get your cell phone back in due time." She and Brass left ignoring the indignant shouts from behind them.

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Tezuka made a conscious decision not to focus on the morning's events. There was too much else to do, too many people that needed to be taken care of. Tonight, maybe, if he'd gotten everyone calmed down and a sense of order restored, he could try to process the murder, but not yet. He was a coach now, and as such had responsibilities.

He ran over the list of things he could do until he was interrupted by one of the CSIs, a man had graying hair and serious blue eyes. He introduced himself as Gil Grissom, taking Tezuka away from the other two coaches to interview him.

"How well did you know Echizen?" Grissom asked.

Tezuka took a moment debating how to answer the question. His relationship with Echizen was difficult to define—not friends exactly. Fuji'd always called Echizen his protégé, and that was probably closest to the truth. Still, it wasn't the type of thing he was comfortable explaining to a stranger, so he settled for a more factual description. "Echizen joined the team late last year, when I was still captain. I've been coaching him up until now."

"Did he have any rivals?"

A frustrated sigh escaped Tezuka. "Numerous. Most of the Japanese tennis circuit considered him competition."

"Including the rest of your team?"  
"Yes." Tezuka considered the members of the team. Echizen's goal had been to beat everyone, Tezuka included. "Atobe and myself, certainly. Kirihara also requested to play him this tour."

Grissom looked at Tezuka, seeming to search for more information. It was somewhat irritating. Finally, he asked, "What about his teammates at home?"

"At Seigaku?" The man nodded. "We're a competitive team, but the rivalry was never this severe."

"Was he competing with anyone else for a position on the team?"

Tezuka wasn't sure what the CSI was driving at. There couldn't be anything indicating Seigaku's guilt? The only Seigaku members here were Fuji and Kikumaru, and that was … impossible. "There was some debate over whether Echizen or Fuji would take the last singles spot, but that was decided months ago. Echizen was fine with being an alternate."

Grissom seemed satisfied by the answer. "Thank you," he said. "We'll call you if we have any further questions."

Tezuka bowed quickly out of habit, not remembering where he was. To his surprise, the CSI bowed back before returning to his colleagues. The coach decided his best move would be to start rounding up the players whose interviews had finished. They could all discuss their next move then. After they'd made some decisions, he could think about what happened. Not until then.

"You okay?" Fuji asked, startling him.

Tezuka answered automatically, "Fine."

"You're lying." Fuji glanced back at the others. Kikumaru was talking to an unusually quiet Kirihara, Sanada not far away. Atobe was still ranting about his phone while Oshitari apologized to everyone in a five foot radius for the captain. Sengoku and Dan had disappeared, hopefully to get the freshman some tea. "You need to eat something today."

"I will when there's time."

"You will now. They don't need us here anymore. Let the other coaches handle it." Tezuka wanted to protest, but Fuji had already taken hold of his elbow, saying, "You won't be able to help anyone if you pass out."

Fuji generally coped with crises by feeding people. If it would calm him down, Tezuka supposed it fell within his duties.


	3. Chapter 3

_Serve & Volley Chapter Three_

_Summary: In which some tennis is played_

_A/N: Our sincerest apologies for taking so long, but both the EB and the MG have the attention spans of ADD gnats. For example:_

_MG: So in this next chapter, I think we need to reveal the murder weapon._

_EB: Yeah, oh before we do that! Check out the GP service in the OAV!_

_MG: How cute! Oh and did I show you the shaving scene from CSI!_

_EB: Yeah the VHS is kinda worn out on that spot. But I love your new icon._

_MG: Hey, you know what would be cool! A Simpsons icon with the SMRT dance on it!_

_EB: We should totally look for one! Oh, and we have to get the DNA evidence on the Senbatsu boys._

_MG: Oh right! Fic._

_Honestly, we shouldn't be allowed in a room together. But here's the next few scenes. They're short (see above), but it's progress. We also have four in the works so it shouldn't be so terribly long between the next chapters. And feel free to guess the killer if you like. We're curious to see if people are on the "right" track.  
_

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"Cause of death: asphyxiation due to strangulation," Doc Robbins told Grissom as the entomologist observed Echizen's body. "There was bruising around the neck, highly unusual though." He pointed, and Grissom noticed several thin lines, as if the victim had been strangled with several thin wires. "The pattern is inconsistent with conventional strangling weapons: neckties, pantyhose."

"The victim was on a tennis team. The killer could've used whatever was most convenient." He thought for a moment. "Tennis racquet gut?"

Robbins frowned. "Do tennis players carry loose strings around?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not as far as I know. Normally a player would take a racquet to a professional to have it restrung. Unless one of these players brought a specific brand with them this far from home."

"To take it to a shop out here?"

"Possibly. If the player favors one brand over another."

"If your victim was strangled with tennis wire, then your killer seems to be trying to make some sort of statement, maybe about their own school," Robbins offered.

"Gives a whole new definition to school spirit."

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Kikumaru didn't quite understand how he came to be at the tennis courts, just that his feet carried him there automatically. Tennis courts were usually comforting places to him, especially this far away from home. The courts were open to the public at the moment, and he heard the soothing sound of tennis balls striking racquets. He leaned against the chain link fence, breathing and trying to get Echizen's image out of his head.

He jumped away when the ball crashed next to his fingers, bending the wire into a dome.

He knew of only two people at this tournament who could smash a ball with that level of intensity, and Fujiko had dragged Tezuka off hours ago.

"What are you guys doing out here?" he called. Sanada and Sengoku both turned to face him.

"Playing tennis." Sanada stated, beginning to serve before his opponent had a chance to turn around.

Sengoku ducked the ball, which appeared to be trailing flames. "Easy, Sanada-san. We're just practicing."

Sanada raised an eyebrow. "That _was_ an easy serve."

"How can you play tennis at a time like this?" Kikumaru growled.

"You got a better idea?" Sengoku shrugged. "Keeps your mind off things, anyway. I always feel better when I'm play--" he stopped to return the next unannounced serve "--ing."

Kikumaru watched the two of them continue for a moment, lulled by the rhythm of the game. After a few rounds, he called. "Sengoku-san!"

"Yeah?" the Yamabuki player didn't turn around as he called.

"You ever play any doubles?"

"Ah… not really. Sanada-san, you wanna play some two versus one?"

"I have an extra racquet in my bag," Sanada said by way of agreement. Kikumaru opened the gate and walked over to the bench where the two players had left their bags. Sanada's had the Rikkai "R" emblazoned on the front and contained two well-worn practice racquets, some black grip tape, and a couple packages of racquet gut. He selected the racquet with more tension, and joined in on Sengoku's side of the court.

Sengoku definitely hadn't played doubles before, and the two were down 3 games when Atobe walked by, not paying much attention to any of them. His voice, however, carried over the noise of the courts.

"What do you mean he's unreachable? The man has six cell phones. One of them is working and ore-sama demands to speak to him _now_!" He paused, listening for a rare five seconds. "Tell him his _only son _is trapped in a third rate motel with a tennis team full of murderers!" He snapped the phone shut, caught sight of the game, and yelled, "Where is Tezuka?"

"Out with Fujiko," Kikumaru offered, knowing it would be inappropriate to laugh at this moment, but feeling an urge to do so nonetheless.

Atobe rolled his eyes and hit another series of keys on his phone, storming back towards the "third rate motel." The three heard him fling some orders at Kabaji before the sound drifted away.

"Your serve," Sanada called.

Kikumaru started, remembering he had a tennis ball in his hands. "Do you guys think he's right? That the killer was someone on the team."

Sengoku shrugged. "As weird as it is to use the words "Atobe" and "right" in the same sentence, the police must think so since they won't let us go home. But it's hard to say since they won't tell us anything."

Kikumaru served, Sanada slicing the ball back with probably a quarter of his power. They volleyed back and forth for a bit, until Kikumaru interrupted, "But… you don't _really _think one of us could…" He couldn't say the word yet.

"You can't tell if someone's capable of murder," Sanada answered, taking another point from the newly formed doubles team.

A glare crossed Kikumaru's face. "You can tell some people. Right, Sengoku-san?"

"You can't," Sanada said before Sengoku could answer. The Yamabuki player looked apologetic, but not ready to argue.

Typical Rikkai response. Kikumaru returned the next shot with a Beam out of spite. Maybe Sanada didn't have any faith in human beings, but Eiji _knew _all of these people. Knew them well. And the idea that he'd played tennis with someone who could have murdered one of his friends… that he could be playing tennis with them right now if Sanada's logic was used… that made him queasy. He thought of Fuji asking him to lie to the police, and the nausea increased. Still, he knew where Fuji snuck off too. Why would that night be any different? Even Fuji's temper never manifested as frighteningly as this.

He tried to refocus his energy on the match at hand. Sengoku had a bad habit of returning the ball without checking to see where Eiji was running. He found himself missing his regular doubles partner with an acute pain.

"Kikumaru!" Sengoku shouted, just in time for Kikumaru to notice the tennis ball flying at a dangerous speed towards his head. He caught it just in time, but it hit the net, rolling on their side of the court. Sengoku walked over to him. "Don't mind him," he said. "You probably haven't eaten anything today, right? You can't focus without nutrition. Let's just go get food or something." Eiji nodded, though he really didn't think he could eat anything.

"Sanada-san, you want to join us for dinner?"

Sanada checked his watch, probably calculating time zones. "I need to make some phone calls first."

"Catch us later then. Thanks for the game." Sengoku started steering Kikumaru towards the bags, but Kikumaru pulled away, moving to return the borrowed racquet. He mumbled a quiet thank you, not able to look the vice-captain in the eye after what he'd said.

Sanada was wrong, though. He had to be. If he wasn't … Kikumaru knew he'd probably never trust anyone again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Serve and Volley_

_Chapter 4: In which Grissom and Sara get some peace, and Oshitari doesn't_

_A/N: We should probably stop making promises we're too ADD to keep. But here's chapter four! We were going to post this earlier, but with the ffdn alert system going down, we decided to wait. Hope everyone from both fandoms is enjoying immensely and both the MG and the EB swear to devote more time to the story as soon as soon as the working world obliges us with free time. Reviews are love and might encourage us to work faster... we'd at least feel guiltier about taking so long._

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With the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, Sara dried her hands and went in search of Grissom. She didn't have to look far as he had gone to the upstairs office of their townhouse.

She stood in the doorway and watched him intently read the information on the computer monitor. Judging by the image next to the text, Grissom was reading about an insect.

After taking a few steps into the room, Sara squeezed his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. She bent slightly to lean her cheek against his.

"Hey, sweetie," she greeted. "What are you looking at?"

"Three-horned Rhinoceros beetle," he answered with his eyes still glued to the screen, although he did place a hand on her forearm that rested below his neck. "New research on its mating rituals."

She grinned. "Many women have to deal with the fact their boyfriends or husbands spend hours looking at porn sites. I guess I should be grateful that you just look at bug porn."

He swiveled in his chair a little to see her face. Sara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Grissom's frown. They stared at each other for a moment before his mouth rose in a half smile.

Silence ensued as Grissom went back to the screen. It was then Sara asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

She shrugged at his response. "You just seem stressed." He hadn't said much at home during the last two weeks and he had been hiding in his office more and more. "Are you worried about the meeting with Ecklie?"

A harsh breath through his nose was all Grissom offered.

Early on, Grissom and Sara decided to keep their relationship a secret, not wanting to risk either's standing in the lab. But when they bought a townhouse together, both thought it was imperative to inform the lab's assistant director, Conrad Ecklie. Even though the department had no written policy on supervisor/subordinate personal relationships, there was still a chance Ecklie could find a way to reprimand them for inappropriate behavior.

Pressing her lips close to his ear, Sara quietly spoke, "It'll be fine, Gil. Chances are he'll make us fill some papers regarding the sexual harassment policy and make sure Catherine does my case reviews and evaluations, which she already does." With no discernible response from Grissom, Sara kissed the side of his head and continued, "At most he would make one of us switch shifts." She pressed her cheek to his again. "And since he dislikes me more than you, he'll probably want me to go to swing shift." In a genuine tone, she added, "Which I have no problem doing."

As Grissom turned in his seat, she removed her arms from around him. "You don't have to do that. I can switch if need be," he offered.

"Baby, you and I both know it would be easier for me to move to another shift." She could only imagine the paperwork hassle involving supervisors trading places, not to mention the risk of her friends being upset at the team getting a new boss. Also, she knew it would be hard for him; even though he never showed it, he did care about their colleagues.

"It's only a possibility, but if it did happen, we'd still be able to see other." Then Sara smirked. "I'd just have to make sure you left as soon as shift ended."

His lips twitched into a half smile. "Because of breakfast?"

"Well, I can't be going without my waffles."

Grissom shook his head slightly before his expression turned serious. "You wouldn't mind moving to another shift?"

"If it came to that, of course not."

His eyes never left hers as he rose out of the chair. He took her face between his warm hands and kissed her lips. Grissom didn't readily accept hugs from anyone, even friends, so it was a pleasant surprise to discover he was affectionate. There was never any hesitation when he enveloped her in hug or when he wanted a kiss.

He kept his arms around her back, and whispered, "You're a good woman."

"I know," she sighed contently. Pulling back, she asked, "So are there any other problems you need me to solve before the day ends?"

After he fell to the chair, he blew out a breath. "How about the Echizen case?"

"I don't what to think about this one. There's not a lot of evidence to go off of, and there are too many suspects to consider." Sara thought for a moment. "Did the wristband get analyzed?"

"Wendy found DNA on it, but not the victim's." At her raised eyebrow, he continued, "The chromosome markers are XY."

"That narrows the field."

Grissom shrugged. "Catherine and Greg went back to the hotel for voluntary samples from the team and coaches."

Her forehead wrinkled. "Do you really think the killer would be stupid enough to give us a DNA sample?"

"Probably not, but whoever refuses narrows the field of suspects."

-------------------------------------------

Oshitari was trying to sleep. Yesterday had been a blur of police and questions, and he spent the night alternating between listening to Atobe try to get a hold of his parents and trying to get the image of Echizen's body out of his head. The result of all this being that he now could hardly see straight with or without his glasses and was trying to cherish the few moments while Atobe was off trying to find someone new to complain to. He did not want to be interrupted by screaming from his suitemate.

"I'm not going to! Get lost!" shrieked the unmistakable voice of Kirihara Akaya.

Fumbling for his glasses, Oshitari uncurled from the bed, heading to the adjoining bathroom. You'd think Rikkai would have learned to lock the door with the amount of times Atobe had tried goading Sanada into a fight/match recently. The vice-captain, however, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Kirihara was shouting at a cowering figure at the door.

"I'm sorry, Kirihara-san," the shape whimpered before rapidly explaing, "Really really sorry but Coach Sakaki-san said everyone has to report downstairs and I didn't mean to disturb you or anything…"

"Well, he can't make me. I watch enough cop shows to know he can't! So fuck off!"

"Vulgarity really only demeans the user," Oshitari commented, causing the younger boy to whirl on him. "Get the hell out of my room!"

"Learn to lock the door," Oshitari advised. "Now if you're through berating the underclassman, perhaps you could cease your incessant shouting?" Kirihara probably understood less than half of what he'd said, but that didn't matter if he could confuse him long enough to keep him quiet. "And what is our beloved coach requesting us for?" 

Dan Taichi looked suddenly frightened at being addressed again. "Hai-desu! The investigators are back to collect DNA samples. Coach Sakaki-san says we all have to."

"Coach Sakaki-_san_ can bite me," Kirihara snapped.

"Be very careful what you wish for," Oshitari suggested. He waltzed into the room and next to a now stunned Kirihara. Bending next to Dan, he whispered, "I advise you to have Sanada bring this one in. It's better for everyone's safety. Now, this summons includes myself, I suppose?" 

"H-hai, desu. Excuse me. I still have to find Fuji-san and Atobe-san." The boy bolted down the hallway before the Rikkai player could make any more threats." 

"Get. Out. Of. My. _Room_!" shouted Kirihara, who had recovered from whatever visions of their questionable coach had flashed through his head. He shoved the Hyotei player out into the hallway.

"Shall I tell the coaches you'll be along, then?"

"I said I'm not going!"

Oshitari adjusted his glasses. The Rikkai player was usually obstinate, but this seemed a ridiculously foolish gesture, even for him. "Any particular reason?" 

"I'm not getting blamed for something I didn't do! Now _fuck off!" _Kirihara slammed the door in Oshitari's face, just in time for the older boy to realize his key card was still in his room. Lovely. Perhaps the adjoining suites were not the wisest layout for the team. He'd have to find Atobe to let him back in. So much for getting in a nap.

At least he knew where Atobe would be soon, though likely with more complaints than Kirihara. Atobe wasn't stupid enough to refuse to volunteer a DNA sample to the police, though. Hopefully, Sanada could enlighten the junior a bit. Oshitari would be sure to inform the vice captain, if nothing else. Sanada wouldn't appreciate suspicion cast on his team members, even if the team member seemed to be openly inviting it.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Serve and Volley_**

_Chapter 5: In which there is analysis and name-calling_

_A/N: Thank you all for waiting. The EB... and MG would like to apologize for general tardiness and slacking off, but we got a chapter done! Yay us! Hope everyone is still enjoying, and remember that every time you leave a review, a bishie gets its wings... or something. TrozInc. certainly enjoys them at any rate.  
_

* * *

"I went through the security tapes from the hotel's lobby and the third floor hallway. I still have the coaches' floor and the rear lobby." Archie announced as Grissom entered the audio/visual lab. The tech swiveled his chair to point him at the control panel, pulling up the scans on one of the room's myriad of computer monitors.

"What'd you find?"

"Vic left his room at 10:00pm and went to the elevators--" he switched scenes on the monitor. Grissom watched as the short boy, clad in the tennis team's warm ups and a white baseball cap opened the door. "He went to the first floor and headed down the hallways towards the locker room at 10:03pm. That's the last we see of him."

"The victim and his roommate didn't get along, and he was known for doing late night training and practice." Grissom studied the victim. He hadn't been wearing the cap when they found him. "Did anybody leave their room at any point during the night?"

"Yes. One person exited room 317 at 12:30am. He gets off on the bottom floor at 12:33 and leaves the hotel through the front doors." The security video wasn't the highest quality and the figure kept his head down, but from the brownish-blonde hair, it looked like Syusuke Fuji. It certainly wasn't his red-headed roommate. Archie continued, "He reenters the building at 1:35am and goes back to his room. There was some activity in the hallway, but no one else left the floor."

The scenes Archie pulled up showed a few students stopping by each other's rooms; Atobe looking livid in most of them.

Just then, Grissom's pager buzzed to life: Sara. The DNA evidence must be in. With another look at the video, Grissom thanked Archie and headed down to the lab.

Sara was waiting when he arrived, looking pleased. "We've got a match. It's not the victim's."

"Syusuke Fuji?"

Sara rolled her eyes, used to Grissom's all-encompassing knowledge of cases. If he hadn't walked her through so many cases, she'd assume he was a psychic.

"He was the only one of left his room during the time frame," Grissom explained.

"According to the other teammates, the two of them have been in heated competition since Echizen transferred to their school."

"_Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal rather than the victim."_1

* * *

"So who do you think did it?" Kirihara asked, shooting a rubber band at Taichi's head. The freshman yelped, bouncing a good foot off of his chair in the hotel's community room. Dinner had been served, but he hadn't eaten anything, preferring to stare at his own hands for the last ten minutes. 

"I think that question is in decidedly poor taste," Fuji intervened, changing to sit between Kirihara and the easiest target in the room. Kirihara had been next to impossible since the DNA test that afternoon. He'd shown up late, practically steamrollered in by Sanada, and then pretended it was his choice to volunteer a sample the entire time. However, "accidentally" tripping Oshitari into Coach Sakaki before dinner seemed to help him regain his spirit immensely.

At present, the second year had resorted to his usual method of dealing with stress: picking on people half his size. After their last match, however, Fuji doubted the junior would be bold enough to attack through him.

"Really? Cuz that sounds like something someone who did it would say." _Then again…_

Around the room, various eyes turned to watch the electricity flicker between the two rivals. Fuji smiled, "Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Kirihara-kun?"

"Just making an observation. Who do _you_ think did it? You're the genius here, right?"

Fuji slid his chair about an inch away from the table. "I don't think it productive to toss accusations around."

"Maa, Maa," Sengoku walked over to the pair, hopping on the table next to Kirihara. Aside from Sanada, he was the only team member who might be able to physically subdue the junior. "Fuji's right. Besides, it doesn't really matter what we think, right? Just what all those cops think."

"Hmph," mumbled Atobe. Hyotei had opted for a table five feet away from everyone else. "What sort of an excuse for police officers are they, anyway? They don't have a clue."

"I don't know," drawled Oshitari, peering over his silver-rimmed glasses. "Agent Sanders appeared quite … capable."

The rest of the team rolled their eyes. "Say what you will, but the blonde chick was totally into me," Sengoku announced from his perch, still guarding Kirihara. "Did you see how many buttons she had undone? Think she does that for all the cute suspects?"

No one answered. Various utensils pushed food around plates.

"You saw her, right, Dan-kun?" Sengoku poked a spoon at his teammate.

"Huh? Oh. Hai-desu, senpai."

"How can you make jokes right now?" Eiji suddenly stated, not shouting, but anger carrying through his normally light-hearted voice.

"Just trying to keep us all from going crazy with the waiting," Sengoku shrugged.

"Crazy," Fuji mumbled. "Interesting choice of words…"

He looked pointedly at Kirihara, who stood up so fast the table wobbled on its base. "What'd you say?!"

"Akaya," came a stern voice from the entrance to the room. Sanada and Tezuka both stood frowning at the assembled. "Yukimura wants to speak with you." He nodded to a cell phone in his hand.

Kirihara glared at Fuji a moment longer, taking a breath and fighting down a noticeable reddening in his vision. Through gritted teeth, he managed "Hai, vice-captain."

The two left, Tezuka walking into the room without comment.

"I wouldn't rile him, if I were you, Fuji-kun," Atobe said, sipping at a cup of tea and making a face at it. "It does look as if you're trying to draw suspicion away from somewhere."

"Now if I wanted to do that, I'd point out that evading security as effectively as this killer has would likely require a large investment."

Atobe's tea cup clinked back against the table, before the calm returned to him. "Hm. Common murder? Hardly."

"Mn. I suppose you would be more likely to pay someone to do it for you."

Atobe whirled around, in time for Tezuka to say, without shouting, "Fuji, ten laps."

Fuji blinked. "Now?"  
"It will calm you down. Go."

Fuji shot Atobe a glare, before standing and heading out of the room.

In the hallway, he heard Atobe's voice begin, "Thank you, Tezuka. Fuji does seem to--"

"Atobe, if you finish that sentence, you can join him." Tezuka wouldn't actually put Atobe and Fuji in any situation alone together, but the threat felt nice anyway. Besides, he knew he deserved the laps. Not as much as that lunatic Kirihara, perhaps, but he did need to get a grip. There was enough tension in the air without him compounding matters, even if Atobe--"

"Excuse me." Fuji stopped, recognizing the police captain from earlier. "Syusuke Fuji?"

He pronounced it _Sai-you-suki_, but Fuji pretended not to notice. "Yes?"

"I need you to come down to the station."

* * *

1 Bertrand Russell 


	6. Chapter 6

_**Serve & Volley  
**__Chapter 6_: In which the interrogation begins...  
**A/N**_We're back! This chapter is one of the first things we wrote and largely the reason we decided to do this piece. We really wanted Greg and Kikumaru to have a chat because they're both cute as puppies and you have to be a stone-hearted jerk to not like puppies. We also really wanted Sara and Fuji to compare notes, but they're a little to busy to do that just yet. Hope everyone enjoys! Reviews are love!_

* * *

Greg glanced through the two-way mirror at the anxious tennis player. The boy had bright red hair, and sat with his feet on the seat of the chair, knees drawn to his chest and tapping his hands against the metal. The CSI doubted this kid could ever be involved in a murder case. 

"So this is the suspect's roommate?" he asked Catherine.

"Yeah, kid jumped about thirty feet in the air when I asked him to come in. He babbled the entire way here." She shook her head, disbelieving. "He's the youngest of four kids, living with his parents and grandparents. Blood type A. Favors an acrobatic play style in tennis and his favorite color is red… I think I found out more about him in five minutes than I have about Grissom in five years."

"He told you all this?" Greg blinked.

"Along with a recount of his most recent six or so tennis matches and his doubles partner back home."

Greg returned to his observation. The boy had untied one of his shoes, then retied it, then apparently decided it wasn't tight enough and repeated the process. "What's your take on him?"

Catherine shrugged. "The babbling seems innocent enough, but you can't be fooled by the cute ones."

He understood Catherine's skepticism, but intuition told him this wasn't their murderer. At the most, the boy might have unwittingly played a part somehow. Maybe he wasn't even aware of how.

His train of thought was interrupted by Catherine offering, "Want me to take him?"

"No, I'd like to do this one." She nodded, and he circled to the entrance.

Kikumaru immediately straightened when the door opened, hands on the table and feet firmly on the floor, though he couldn't seem to stop one leg from trying to tap.

Greg smiled, trying to put the boy at ease. "Hi. My name's Greg Sanders. We just want to ask you a couple of questions about last night."

"Kikumaru Eiji," the boy bowed, then looked up blinking. "I mean… Eiji Kikumaru. But I guess you already know that, huh? I mean… you guys brought me over here, so you probably know who I am and stuff--"

"Yeah, I have a list of your schedules here. Looks like you had practice until four. Then dinner and free time. Did you do anything that night?"

"A bunch of us went exploring up and down the strip. We went to see that big fountain. They play music and have it all choreographed to this song and I didn't know the song but I thought it was pretty cool. Have you seen that fountain? Well, you probably have since you live here. If I lived here, I'd probably go see it every day. I have this friend in Japan who'd really like it too. And after that we went to see the volcano erupt and then found this arcade--"

Greg let him continue, seeing the boy's posture relax the more he talked.

"They had a DDR game there and I beat Sengoku and Fujiko and Kirihara-kun, and then we almost got kicked out because Kirihara-kun said the machine was broken and had a tantrum. Then Sengoku made us go to this casino and this," he leaned in conspiratorially, _girl _tried to pick up Atobe. He turned purple; that happens to him sometimes."

"What time did you get back to the hotel?"

"Coach makes us get back before 11 or we have laps. Atobe and Oshitari went back a little earlier, but the rest of us got back around then."

"Did you go to bed right away?"

Kikumaru shook his head. "I called Oishi… my friend in Japan."

"And that didn't disturb your roommate?"

At the mention of his roommate, Kikumaru twitched. He averted his eyes just enough to be suspicious when he answered, "Fujiko's used to me. He doesn't mind."

Greg leaned back in chair. "How long were you on the phone?"

The boy looked embarrassed for a moment, a slight hint of red in his cheeks. "Maybe two hours? But please don't tell the coaches that. I'll get laps."

Greg calculated in his head. The murder took place around 12:30am according to Doctor Robbins; the kid had to have been awake when his roommate left. "And your roommate didn't leave to give you your privacy or anything?"

Another twitch, this time with a nervous laugh. "Fujiko? He sleeps pretty deeply. He's really difficult to wake up for practice."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he gets laps for it all the time. And since I'm his roommate, I always have to wake him up, and he's in the worst mood if he doesn't have his coffee--"

"Because we have a picture of him leaving the room at midnight." With that, he pushed a photo from the security tape across the table.

The color drained from Kikumaru's face. He glanced up at Greg, almost terrified. "I… he… I'm sorry, I just thought--" Kikumaru stopped, took a breath, and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, but I didn't want you to think what you're probably thinking now. I mean, Fuji sneaks out all the time, but he'd never do something like… that. He left, but… please don't think anything bad about him."

Greg had to agree with Catherine; the ones who seemed innocent always had something to hide.

* * *

Sara entered the interrogation room to speak with Syusuke Fuji. He sat with his arms folded protectively against his chest, face expressionless. She took her seat across from him, studying him for a moment before asking, "Can you tell me where you were at one-o-clock last night?" 

His voice was polite, if mildly annoyed. "In my room. Asleep, as most people are at that hour. You can ask Eiji if you like."

"We have a witness that say you weren't."

Fuji's eyes blinked open for a moment in surprise.

"We also have footage of you leaving your room just after midnight." She slid a still photograph towards him. Fuji glanced at it, but his expression remained unconcerned.

After a pause where it became clear he wasn't going to answer, she asked, "Did you have anything against Ryoma?"

"I would never have hurt him," Fuji stated suddenly. "We had our … differences, but I would never have hurt him."

"Your coaches tell me the two of you had a long-standing rivalry. A young prodigy shows up at your school, takes the attention away from you…"

"We were part of the same team. And we traded singles spots often enough to keep things from getting heated. Actually, I took singles two from him on this trip, so if anything, he had a grudge against me."

"So why did we find your DNA on the wristband in the stall with him?"

Another too quick blink, followed by a pause where she could almost see his mind working. According to the data, Fuji was an accelerated student, regarded as a prodigy in both tennis and academics. She couldn't be sure how much she could trust any of his answers. "This is just a conjecture, but I'd suspect one of my teammates. Exactly how much do you know about Akaya Kirihara?"

Sara noticed the sudden shift in topics, but was curious as to his new tactic. "Why would you suspect him?"

"Kirihara-kun, has a rather interesting history of violence, particularly when tennis is involved. He injured Echizen before, actually. And the most interesting fact is, later he barely remembers doing so. It's almost as if he blacks out."

"Have you witnessed this before?" Sara asked, suspicious of how he came by this information.

"First-hand. I've played against him in competition before and spent a couple days in the hospital recovering. I did win, though," he added as an afterthought.

"So you think he waltzed into your room during one of these 'black-outs' and stole your wristband?"

"I've lost several wristbands in the laundry over the course of this trip. I'm sure anyone could pick one up."

Sara shook her head; everybody always claimed to lose what turned out to be the key piece of evidence. "If all this is true, then where were you last night?"

Fuji's eyes lingered for a moment on the photograph. "I'm very sorry, Miss Sidle, but I can't tell you the answer to that."

A little taken aback by his change in demeanor, Sara asked, "Why not?"

Fuji chose his words carefully. "It's true I wasn't in my room, and I shouldn't have asked Eiji to lie for me, but I wasn't somewhere I was supposed to be either."

"Is there somebody who can confirm your whereabouts?"

Fuji took a breath. "Miss Sidle, you have someone, don't you? I've seen you with him."

Sara felt her heart rate accelerate, for a panicked moment wondering if someone on the staff had seen them. Panic soon dissolved into an offended anger at this kid's using _that _against her. "I'm asking you if --"

"He's quite handsome," the boy smiled. "If you like older men, a bit bow-legged, perhaps, but looks very nice in those glasses."

Sara couldn't find any words as she tried to control the heat rising in her face. She felt her lips twitch, and the boy's subtle smile smirked in victory.

"You hide it well," Fuji continued. "So don't worry. I'm just good at noticing these things. And I'm not trying to be rude, or anything"-- _My ass, you're not-- _Sara thought to herself, but let him continue, "--I just mean that you understand my situation."

"And what situation would that be?"

"You have someone too. Someone you'd be willing to do just about anything for. Someone you would protect at any cost. That is why I can't tell you where I was that night."

Realization hit Sara. Realization and a forceful anger. "You know who did this."

Fuji shook his head. "No. I wish I did, but I only have my suspicions. I wish I could help you more. I know what everyone says about me and Echizen, but I didn't hate him. However, there's someone else I need to protect. I'm sorry."

"Then you do realize we're going to have to hold you."

"I know. I understand."

Sara stood up, asking the officer to escort the boy back to his cell. Fuji stood obediently to follow, though stopped just short of the door. "I apologize if I've seemed forward, Miss Sidle. I know how difficult it can be to put up with stoic types like him. I sincerely hope you the two of you can catch the real killer." And he left.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Serve & Volley_**

_**Chapter 7:** In which the stoic types have a conversation and certain names are cleared.. sorta_

_**A/N**: Behold! An update! We apologize, but we've reached new levels of distraction lately. That and the MG is moving far away, so she is very busy and the EB... is very sad. Updates may become (if possible) more erratic, but we plan to soldier on via the miracle of the internet! Anywho, this chapter is another one of the reasons we wanted to write this crossover. Grissom and Tezuka are so very similar sometimes, we just wanted them to chat. Unfortunately, they're similar in not being chatty... grrr. Still we got it done! Also, please forgive Atobe in this chapter. He's very stressed out right now._

* * *

Tezuka was getting worried about Kirihara. The second year acted normally though lunch, picking on the towel boy and inciting Fuji. Then, after the next round of police investigation, he'd gone strangely quiet. He'd even stopped tormenting Atobe, who'd been going off about his stolen "pocket money" all day. Tezuka wasn't sure what Atobe considered "pocket money," but it was likely more than Seigaku's yearly tuition. Teach him to flash his wallet around Vegas, Tezuka supposed.

Maybe they were both just coping with Echizen's death. Both of them considered Echizen a rival, and both had been denied proper rematches; Fuji kept saying people tended to act extremely out of character in times of grief, though he hardly called Atobe complaining out of character. As for the others, Sanada remained as unreadable as always, Sengoku spent most of his time supporting a shell-shocked Dan, and Oshitari generally avoided the tension as much as possible. Tezuka didn't blame him; if he didn't have so many responsibilities to fill, he'd be avoiding everyone too.

As for his own teammates, Fuji and Kikumaru seemed to form their own support club. Tezuka had seen neither of them since ordering Fuji laps at lunch. The tensai disappeared then, probably upset with Tezuka snapping at him. It was for his own good though, and Tezuka would gladly explain once Fuji decided to talk to him again. Maybe he'd been too strict, but he wouldn't have people throwing around accusations like that on his team. The situation was bad enough.

"I told you I don't know when I'm coming home!" Tezuka paused to watch Atobe storm down the hallway. "The police here are completely inept and not even concerning themselves with ore-sama's valuable losses and-- don't you dare fall asleep!" The Hyotei captain glared at the cell phone for a moment before angrily snapping it shut and noticing his audience.

"Tezuka, you're looking reasonably well. I'm surprised you aren't at the police station."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "I've already given my statement." He was probably still considered a suspect since he'd been unable to give an alibi and they seemed to think Echizen's rivalry with him was motive enough. Still, there was no cause to question him further.

"At least we can all rest easier now that they have a suspect in custody, na?"

_In custody? _"Who--"

"Buchou!" The shriek cut Tezuka's question off, as he was suddenly faced by a furious, panting Kikumaru. "What are you doing here?!"

Tezuka frowned. "I'm--"

"They aren't letting Fuji go! I tried to see him when they were done talking to me, and they wouldn't let me! And they know he wasn't in the room with me, but I don't think he's saying where he really was, and you have _do _something!"

"Fuji is--"

"You didn't know?" Atobe asked.

"Hurry up!" Kikumaru ignored Atobe, tugging at Tezuka's arm and actually pulling him a few feet before Tezuka's brain caught up with the conversation.

"Stop!" he ordered, and the acrobat immediately dropped his arm. Atobe watched them both with a raised eyebrow, infuriating Tezuka even more. "I can't just go get him, Kikumaru."

"But--"

"Fuji knows how to take care of himself."

"And others too, evidently."

Tezuka and Kikumaru both turned on the Hyotei captain, who dealt with their glares impassively. "Tezuka, you're not suggesting Fuji had no motive. With all the attention you've been paying to Echizen lately."

Tezuka took three breaths before he spoke. "What are you implying, Atobe?"

"Just that Fuji can be dangerous when threatened. Not that any of this is your fault, but--"

Kikumaru jumped him, which was probably a good thing since Tezuka would have punched Atobe in the face if he hadn't had to pull Kikumaru off of him. As it was, he found himself dealing with the shouting redhead who seemed very determined to go for Atobe's eyes. If his reaction was delayed slightly, he could blame it on still being slightly in shock.

"Idiot!" Atobe hissed back, picking himself up. "I bet he even asked you to cover for him!."

"What does it matter?! You _know_ he didn't do it!" Kikumaru shrieked. Then he turned his head to glare at Tezuka, blue eyes hot with anger. "You both _know!_"

The energy seemed to drain from him, and Tezuka decided it was safe to let Kikumaru fall to the ground. Atobe was making noise about calling his lawyers on grounds of assault, but Tezuka had no more time for that than he did Kikumaru's accusations. He turned around, stalking down the hall and hoping neither of them followed. All he could think was that Fuji was usually so capable so resourceful. He never let anyone have the upper hand, and he could always take care of himself.

So why wasn't he doing so?

* * *

Grissom headed down the hall to check on Sara's interrogation of the odd Japanese kid. Passing the reception desk, he noticed the young coach from the Senbatsu team politely arguing with the officer on duty.

"…if you could please allow me to see him," he said in halted English. "I can clear the matter up."

"Excuse me," Grissom said, walking over towards them, "my name's Gil Grissom and I'm working on this case. Is there something that you can help us with?"

"Fuji didn't kill Echizen," Tezuka stated.

Grissom quirked an eyebrow, "Come with me."

Apparently satisfied, the coach followed him to Brass's office.

"How do you know Fuji didn't kill Echizen?" Grissom asked once inside the empty room.

Tezuka adjusted the handle of his glasses, looking momentarily uncomfortable. "He isn't a murderer. He can be extremely defensive, but he would never take it that far. And Echizen hadn't done anything to upset him."

"What about competition for the singles spot?"

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "Fuji wouldn't commit a crime like that over a competition, particularly not one he'd already won."

Grissom had hoped for something more tangible than personal emotions. He couldn't how many times friends and families of criminals had argued that the suspects simply weren't capable of such acts. No matter how much you think you know someone, there were always shadows. He tried his best to let the captain down gently. "I understand your point, but your word isn't sufficient enough to release your friend."

"Fuji wasn't in the locker room that night." He stopped there, as if he couldn't figure out how to phrase his next sentence.

"And how do you know this?"

"Because--" another pause "--because he was with me."

Grissom's brow furrowed as he considered this. "What were you doing?"

Tezuka studied the small grizzly bear figurine on Brass's desk. "He spent the night. From about 12:30 to just before practice began at seven. He left about twenty minutes before I did."

_ Ah. _Still, it seemed a little convenient. Particularly when Fuji hadn't mentioned a word about it. "Why didn't he tell any of this to us when we brought him in?"

Tezuka sighed, as if the force of the admission had taken a lot out of him. "Because he is the most stubborn person in the country. He probably thinks he's protecting me. If our ...relationship was discovered, I would lose my position as coach, probably be forced to leave the team as well."

"I know someone like that," Grissom smirked. He remembered Sara insisting on several occasions that if their relationship were ever discovered, she would resign before his position was questioned. "We have some evidence to review before we can clear him."

"How long before Fuji can leave?"

"As soon as we can prove your statement."

Tezuka nodded, "I'll wait."


	8. Chapter 8

**Serve and Volley**

**Chapter 8: **_ In which several styrofoam cups are destroyed_

_A/N: We're not quite dead! Soooooooooooo sorry for all the delays, but MG moved to Boston and is busy learning about stuff to put in our fic. Seriously. And the EB is busy fighting the Man. But now we're back together for Winter Break, so here's a Christmas Present! An update! Murder and Bishounen for everyone!_

_---------------------------------------------------------------- _

Number 12.

Fuji would be laughing at him about now, Tezuka thought as he began methodically pinching the lip of his styrofoam cup into a series or ridges. That was step one. Once the entire lip had been molded into this shape, using the same process his mother used for folding dumplings, he started to roll it. Bits usually broke off during this process, but that didn't matter. He threw the scraps away. Once enough had been rolled off that the circumference was level, he began the pinching process again, repeating steps one and two until he'd whittled down to the circular base. At this point, Tezuka made a crack in the center with a finger nail, rolling outward until all the scraps were too small to break down further. He then brushed the excess styrofoam off his pants and got another cup.

Number 13.

The task absorbed him so completely that he didn't notice the person standing over him until the coffee fumes hovered directly under his nose. He looked up at the friendly, concerned face smiling at him.

"Thought you might need this, coach," Sengoku offered.

Ordinarilly, Tezuka didn't drink coffee. Today, he thought he couldl make an exception, though. Pouring scalding acid down his throat sounded like a pleasant diversion from his current mental train of thoughts. "Thank you," Tezuka accepted the oversized cup, setting the beginning of his next project on the magazine table. Uninvited, Sengoku sat in the chair next to him.

"You know the other coaches are starting to talk," Sengoku warned. "Kikumaru-kun can't hold them back much longer. Everyone wants to know when you're coming back."

"I'll be back as soon as Fuji is released. They can wait until then."

Sengoku shrugged. "Up to you, I guess. He is getting released then? Cuz Atobe's been going around telling everybody how he never trusted him and you

always have to be careful of the quiet ones etc. etc."

Tezuka's frown deepened. "I'll deal with Atobe later."

"Call me first. I want to see that," Sengoku laughed. "How much longer do you have to wait?"

Tezuka took a sip of the coffee. It was one of those flavors that contained so many additives as to not even resemble coffee any longer. This one tasted like caramel and black licorice, leaving a sticky, sweet film on the roof of his mouth. "Soon, I believe. They are reviewing some new evidence."

For a moment, Sengoku stared into space, pondering this. "Guess I'd better help keep the gang together at the hotel then. You okay, here?"

Tezuka raised an eyebrow, a little taken a back by Sengoku's interest. Sengoku wasn't particularly close with either Tezuka or Fuji, but it was nice to see someone not automatically assuming Fuji's guilt. "I'm fine," Tezuka raised his coffee cup in thanks, taking another drink. Still vile, but at least it distracted him.

Sengoku gave a wave before leaving the waiting room at his usual saunter. Tezuka set the coffee down, picking up his abandoned cup. He paused mid-way through his destruction of the lip, realizing he'd forgotten what number he'd left off on.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I looked at the tapes from the fourth floor, and there was somebody entering room 412 at twelve-thirty." Archie punched a few buttons and a stilled image of a figure in a blue hoodie appeared on the screen.

"That's the exact same clothing as our lobby suspect," Greg noted. Grissom didn't comment, just stared thoughtfully at the unidentified form.

Archie fast-forwarded through the hours of the night. "But nobody emerged from the room until 6:30 the next morning." The door on the monitor reopened, and the figure snuck out, head low, face still obscured by the same hood.

"Can you pull up an image of the suspect heading towards the tennis courts?" Grissom asked.

With a few more mysterious clicks, the image on the screen split to show two nearly identical individuals in two different locations at the same time. "Can you run a height comparison of the two?"

"I should be able to," Archie shrugged. Greg was never quite sure what the rows and rows of buttons on Archie's desk did, but through some sort of technological witchcraft, a yellow bar appeared lengthwise beside each suspect. The fourth floor suspect was 5.6 inches tall. The lobby was 6.2.

"How tall is our suspect in custody?" Greg asked.

"Not 6.2." Grissom turned to Archie to take the printout of the pictures. "See if you two can enhance the first image any more. I'm going to go talk to Brass."

------------------------------------------------------------

Kirihara knocked on the door. He knew logically that he shouldn't have to knock to the door of his own room, but it was a matter of respect when asking favors from Genichiroh Sanada. "Fukubuchou?" he asked.

Sanada sat at the desk, his calligraphy brush in hand. He didn't look up when the door opened. "What is it, Akaya?"

"Fukubuchou, I know this guy who has a ... problem, and I thought, maybe, you could give me some advice?" He didn't mean to say it as a question; it just came out like that.

Sanada didn't put the brush down, but turned his head sideways to raise an eyebrow at him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! Why does everybody always think-- I really didn't do anything wrong... I think."

"You think?"

"I... yeah, I think. But I found something in here and... were you in the room last night?"

"Akaya." This time Sanada set the brush down and turned the chair. He used the same tone of voice as he did right after Kirihara lost to Fuji back in the semi-finals, his eyes glowering with that same, disciplinary glare. "Get to the point."

Kirihara gulped. "I found this..."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Serve and Volley**_

_**Chapter 9: ** In which much shameless fan service is awarded and new suspicions arise  
_

_Look! Only a three month waiting period between posts. Not so bad, right? And this one's much longer than the last one. And filled with exciting new plot twists. MG and EB have developed a system of phone ficcage which will hopefully keep updates more regular. Seriously, we have a date set to work on the next one. A date within this month.MG would like to express her joy in new episodes of CSI. EB would like to express her sadness on the end of tennis, but the fic shall soldier on. No matter what Konomi says or how many crappy matches Echizen wins by being a hack._

_Thank you to everyone who sticks with us during these ridiculously long dry spells. We appreciate it and hope you enjoy!_

Fuji paced back down the hallway, feeling about the same as he had walking into the cell. There was only one way he could be released this early, and that meant Tezuka had lost his position as coach. And Fuji'd probably be forced to leave the team, maybe the school. And neither of them would be able to continue careers in tennis and_everything_was ruined. And all because someone had opened his mouth. Maybe Eiji, maybe Atobe (and if it was the latter, the Hyotei boy would pay dearly). Fuji doubted Tezuka would have blown his cover so quickly; keeping quiet was what the captain did best...

...which made him all the more surprised when he saw Tezuka stand up as Fuij entered the waiting area.

Fuji stopped next to the receptionist's desk as Tezuka walked over to him. Disbelieving, he began, "Why did you--"

Tezuka grabbed him in a hug before he could complete his sentence. Right in the middle of the police station. In front of other people. For a moment, Fuji was too stunned by the proximity and warmth to speak. And when he did try, he was interrupted again. "Tezuka--"

"Idiot. Promise me you won't ever do anything so selfishly stupid ever again," Tezuka mumbled into his hair.

Fuji smiled naturally for the first time in at least three days, letting himself sink a little deeper into the embrace before saying, "No."

* * *

Sara watched the reunion from a respectable distance away. She'd observed the captain unsuccessfully trying to hide his anxiety over the course of the last six hours. His face remained expressionless, but judging by the trash can next to him, he'd methodically shredded some 27 styrofoam cups. 

When Fuji was brought into the room, however, Sara thought she noticed a flash of emotion overtake Tezuka, though it could have been the glare off of his glasses. She doubted that now, however. His face reminded her of the time the apartment complex next to hers had caught fire, injuring several tenants and destroying most of the building. Sara had been asleep at the time, too exhausted to hear the phone ring with Grissom's call. She'd just woken up when she heard him unlocking the door, calling her name. Tezuka's face looked about the same as Grissom's did then: sudden unguarded relief mixed with the fear of a narrowly avoided disaster.

She probably looked as surprised as Fuji did now when Grissom pulled her into a bear hug back then. _Someone you'd do anything to protect_, the boy had said to her. She supposed she could forgive his earlier comments a little. But only a little.

She felt Grissom's familiar presence appear behind her, just as the two boys finally started speaking in hushed Japanese.

"What are they saying?" she whispered.

Grissom's trademark stoicism morphed into an amused smile before he translated. "He called him an idiot and ordered him not to do that again."

Fuji shook his head and mumbled a response.

"He said 'no,'" Grissom offered.

"I caught that."

Tezuka kept an arm protectively around Fuji, steering him towards the exit. Both boys made a short bow as they left, Fuji giving Sara a knowing look accompanied by a smirk in Grissom's direction just before they disappeared through the door.

"What was that?" Grissom asked.

"Nothing," Sara replied a little too quickly.

Grissom's raised eyebrow clearly showed his disbelief.

"What? No. It _is _nothing."

Grissom put one hand on Sara's arm, making her freeze as he murmured, "Whatever you say, dear."

Naturally, Greg chose that moment to burst into the room, trailing two more members of the Japanese tennis team behind him. "Grissom, you might want to see this," he said, looking perplexed and the suddenly increased distance between his colleagues.

* * *

Genichirou Sanada was a man with a force of presence that immediately dominated any room he entered. Fuji sensed him even before he saw the trademark baseball cap coming down the hall, steamrollering Kirihara and following one of the harried-looking CSI's from earlier. Fuji quickly processed their appearance: Kirihara's sleepless eyes, Sanada's hand the only force moving the boy forward, and the Ziploc bag containing an all too familiar white baseball cap. 

He glanced at Tezuka whose eyes were trained on the bag. None of the teammates spoke to each other as the Rikkai boys passed, though Kirihara shot Fuji a glare probably designed to intimidate him into keeping quiet on this new development. Fat chance.

"Tezuka, we should go… now."

Tezuka nodded and the two of them slipped back out into the Las Vegas heat.

* * *

Grissom took in the appearance of his coworker and the two university students standing behind him. He couldn't help but notice that they both appeared about six feet tall, taller than Fuji anyway. One of them looked extremely agitated, hopping from one foot to the other and occasionally glancing backwards at his teammate. Said teammate kept one hand on the other's shoulder, almost as if keeping him from bolting. 

"What is it?" Grissom asked Greg.

"Akae-Akai- he," Greg pointed to the shorter boy, "found the cap." He held up a plastic bag with a crumpled, white baseball cap.

The boy rolled his eyes, hissing slightly through his teeth. "My name is Akaya Kirihara, and someone put _that_ in my room." He pointed at the bag."

"Sara, Greg, take this to the lab. You two-" he pointed at the tennis players- "come with me."

He led them into one of the interrogation rooms and had them sit in front of the metal table in the center. Kirihara looked to the other boy, (a senior named Genichirou Sanada he told Grissom) almost for permission, before sitting. Sanada kept his arms folded across his chest, barely moving except to nod at his teammate.

"Where did you find the hat?" Grissom began.

"Under my bed," Kirihara said after another quick glance. "Behind some of my tennis stuff I haven't been using."

"When?"

"This morning. I didn't check the clock."

"Why didn't you come in sooner?" It seemed pretty odd to Grissom that this key piece of evidence hadn't shown up sooner. He wondered how much the boy knew.

"Because I didn't want to get framed for murder!" Kirihara snapped.

"Akaya, calm down," Sanada ordered. He turned to Grissom. "He wasn't sure what to do with it and waited for me to get back to our room. I brought him here. Neither of us had anything to do with Echizen's death."

"I didn't say you did," Grissom said calmly, "But I will need you both to tell me where you were the night he was killed."

"As I already told the police, we were both in our room. Asleep." Kirihara kept his eyes down as Sanada said this.

"If you were both asleep, how did you know the other person was in the room?"

"I'm a light sleeper. I would have woken up if anyone came in or left." Sanada looked at Kirihara again, still that forceful, focused stare. His presence seemed to overwhelm his teammate.

Grissom rested his cheek on his open hand. After a few moment's thought, he pulled out his cell phone, saying, "I'm going to have you talk to Captain Brass to write a formal statement."

A few minutes later, Brass arrived, taking Sanada out of the room after Grissom explained the situation. The C.S.I. was now alone with the fidgeting tennis player.

"How did the cap get into your room?"

"I don't know. Gremlins?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively.

Grissom ignored the comment, staring the boy down. "There's no one else beside your roommate that would have access to your room?"

"The cleaning people, I guess. It's always the maid who did it, right? Or the butler?"

"I'm talking about your teammates," Grissom stated. "This isn't a joke."

Kirihara shrugged. "We don't get a whole lot of visitors. The towel boy brings us our laundry and stuff."

"So only you or Sanada could have put the hat there?"

Kirihara's eyes narrowed. "I didn't say that! Somebody came in my room! I knew I shouldn't have brought that stupid hat in!"

"Tell me again where you were that night."

"I don't know! I--" Kirihara stopped mid-sentence, realizing what he'd said.

Grissom blinked in surprise. "You don't know?"

Kirihara looked around, finding no real support. "Sanada says I was in my room, so I must have been in my room."

"But you're not sure?" Grissom asked, puzzled.

"I said I was!"

"We've looked into your medical records," Grissom added. "Would it be possible for you to have left your room in one of your 'black-outs?'

Kirihara fell back in his chair with a sigh. "This is why I didn't want to bring that thing in." He took a couple of moments looking at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. "They don't happen much anymore, and usually it's only when I get mad or during tennis, so I don't think anything happened that night. I wasn't mad at Echizen or anything." Kirihara shut his eyes again, and when he opened them, his defenses had come up again. "I know nothing happened. I couldn't have left the room. Someone would have seen me."

Grissom leaned back in his chair, taking the new information in. This case was becoming much more complex than he originally thought.


	10. Chapter 10

_Serve and Volley_

_Chapter Ten: In which Atobe's day only gets work, and many theories are postulated_

_A/N: Check us out, everyone! MG and EB have regular ficcage dates now, so we managed to polish off this chapter in like... three weeks. A new record! Thank you all for reviews. We are nearing the conclusion of the great epic of crack, and we're really pleased to find so many people joining in our insanity. Apologies for the ending, but we can't reveal everything yet, ne?  
_

* * *

"First we have the suspect who won't shut up. Then the suspect sleeping with the coach. And the latest one has occasional amnesiac black-outs." Catherine flicked her hair over her shoulder in irritation.

"Yeah. Just like an episode of _The Young and the Restless," _Brass replied, resting his arms on his desk.

"You watch _The Young and the Restless?"_

"Watched."

"Not the same since the young heiress died in a car crash fifteen minutes after her wedding?"

Brass's facial expression didn't change, but his tone shifted about two degrees colder as he answered, "I was no longer subjected to the trials and tribulations of Genoa City after I moved out of my ex-wife's place."

Catherine quirked her eyebrow at Brass's knowledge of day time television, but continued with her original purpose for stopping by his office. "As I was saying, this new guy comes in with the victim's hat, claiming he has nothing to do with it, but he can't remember where he was that night."

"Let me guess, found it in a trash can?"

"No. Under his own bed."

Brass rolled his eyes. "Where are you guys on processing the hat?"

"Greg and Sara are swabbing it for DNA right now, though we don't--"

Before Catherine could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by an echoing outburst from the hallway. "Ore-sama does not care what sort of a meeting the captain is in. This is a matter of life and death. A very highly-respected, important and powerful life!"

A knock followed the commotion, and the door opened to reveal an annoyed officer. "You have a visitor," he stated, using the same tone for "visitor" that most people reserved for rashes, body odors, and mother-in-laws.

Brass closed his eyes, sighed, and mumbled, "Send him in." Catherine gave him a sympathetic look and sat down in the chair opposite Brass to offer moral support.

Atobe strode into the room in a way irritatingly reminiscent of Ecklie when he was after impossible case updates. Catherine braced herself.

"I demand to be informed as to the reasons why this joke of a police department released a murderer back into ore-sama's hotel."

"It's not our department's policy to release information --"

"This is absurd! Fuji Syusuke is a mentally unstable, possessive, sadistic hack _and _the only person on the team with any motive to kill Echizen and if you people can't see that then it's only a matter of time before he goes after someone more important!"

"And who would that be?" Catherine asked.

Atobe, apparently noticing her for the first time, stared at her as if she'd just asked what color the sky was. "Do not attempt to patronize ore-sama."

Brass intervened, "I'm _very _sorry, but as I mentioned, we are unable to release any information about the case at this time."

"Unbelievable." The boy threw up his hands in disgust. "None of this would have happened if we'd just stayed in Japan where we have competent police forces who can spot a guilty suspect when he's standing under their noses. I've had nothing but problems since we set foot in this country. First, I'm robbed ten minutes after our plane sets down, my custom tennis rackets are lost before the first tournament, and now this. Unbelievable."

Catherine interrupted. "We're sorry for your experiences, but in America we believe that all suspects are innocent until proven guilty, which means we must analyze the evidence. And until that evidence becomes proof, we cannot arrest 'the murderer.' So if you will excuse us, we will get back to work trying to protect your extremely important self."

Atobe sniffed. "Rest assured that if you don't, you'll be hearing from my family's lawyers."

"I look forward to it."

Atobe didn't seem to have a comeback for that one, and simply spun out the door running into several uniformed officers on his way out the door.

"Game and match," Brass smirked.

"Thank you."

* * *

Atobe was going to be pissed when he got back. Oshitari hadn't invited Kikumaru and Sengoku over… they just naturally drifted into any room from which wafted the scent of cheese-powder covered fried cornmeal. Atobe would also have a fit if he knew Oshitari was eating said peasant snacks in the room, so Oshitari had to share to keep them quiet. Honestly, they should be buying him cheap American snack food for the crap he had to listen to right now.

"Fuji's gonna kill me when he gets back," Kikumaru mumbled, then looked horrified. "Well not _kill_ me, kill me. He wouldn't really kill me, but he's going to find some way to make my life miserable." He shoved a consolation Cheeto in his mouth, wiping his hands on Atobe's comforter. Oshitari smirked.

"He'll get over it," Sengoku assured him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Fuji doesn't get over things. Fuji pretends like he's gotten over them for months and months and then when you least expect it, everyone at school is showing me the pictures of my sisters dressing me up in their Easter outfits that an unlisted number just texted them!" He stopped to breathe and eat another Cheeto.

"Really, Eiji, your sister's already shown half the school those photos. I'd need to be a bit more creative…" said a voice from outside the slightly cracked door.

"Fujiko!" Eiji shouted, bouncing off the bed in a flurry of orange powder and nearly strangling his teammate in a hug. "You're okay! I'm so glad you're okay! Please don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to tell them that--"

"It's all right, Eiji. You did the right thing. And anyway, everything worked out; they have a new suspect in custody."

Oshitari perked up at this information. "Atobe just flew out upset that they were releasing you. They have a new suspect already?"

Fuji nodded, extracting himself from Kikumaru. "I'm not sure on the details, but as we were leaving, Rikkai was coming in. And they had Echizen's hat."

Kikumaru stepped away from Fuji, looking even more upset than he had a moment ago. "Kirihara?"

Fuji shrugged, but in a way that suggested Kikumaru was absolutely right. Personally, Oshitari didn't think the Rikkai kid had it in him, but that was a matter for the police, not someone of his inordinately superior IQ.

"That kid does have some serious anger problems," Sengoku sighed. "It was nuts trying to keep him from kicking the crap out of that Fudomine guy during the training camp."

"But that doesn't mean he'd kill anybody. Maybe it wasn't one of us at all. Maybe it was just some crazy person, or one of those obsessed fans! He has those, right! Like that kid from the Goodwill Games."

"But if they found his hat…" Sengoku trailed off. "It doesn't look good."

"We'll let the police handle that. In the mean time, why is Atobe running off to yell about my release?"

"You guys have fun with that. I promised Momo I'd give him a call when there was any news. I think this counts."

"I've got a better idea," Oshitari announced from where everyone was ignoring him. "How about you all leave and allow me to enjoy what little peace I have left until my fearless captain returns?"

Fuji and Kikumaru exchanged a glance, then continued to talk. Sengoku gave him a sympathetic look and headed out the door.

* * *

Grissom and Sara arrived at the DNA lab, a little short of breath from racing to respond to Wendy's. emergency page.

"You've got something for us?" Sara asked.

"I have the DNA results from the hat," Wendy replied, handing her a piece of paper. "The major donor's DNA belongs to the victim."

Sara sighed; another dead end. "You paged us for that?"

"No," Wendy drawled, rolling her eyes slightly, "There was a minor donor too. It's a match to one of the other teammates." She handed them a second piece of paper.

Grissom and Sara both read the name at the top of the page.

"Huh…" said Grissom.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Serve and Volley**_

_Chapter 11: In which the CSI's finally make some progress... sort of_

_A/N: Okay, we think this is the second to the last chapter. Really it is. And it's important. And we're finally getting around to reveals! And we're going to finish it before EB moves even farther away. Thank you to all our readers for sticking with us for this long and jumbled journey and ignoring plot holes where they may lie. Hopefully next chapter will answer any and all questions._

* * *

"It's no big deal," Kirihara breezed, putting his feet up on the lobby's coffee table. "Fukubuchou made me go and give them the hat, but I told them I didn't do anything and they let me go."

Sengoku didn't look like he believed him, but then again Sengoku wasn't really looking at him at all, just checking out some of the tourist girls at the counter. He was a pretty difficult person to have a conversation with. "Are you even listening?"

"Of course. Innocent, framed, yadayada… did you see that blonde wink at me?"

"You're an idiot."

Sengoku either didn't hear or didn't care. It didn't matter though because just then Kirihara noticed the lobby doors open and something much more interesting walk in: that creepy, old CSI guy from the station and a bunch of others Kirihara didn't recognize. He jumped to his feet immediately, half-ready to run, but they didn't even glance at him, just headed for the elevator. Kirihara kicked Sengoku in the shin to get his attention, pointing to the entourage.

"Who do you think they're after this time?" Sengoku asked.

They watched the blue lights at the top of the elevator blink on one after another, stopping at the coaches' floor. Kirihara leapt to his feet, heading for the stairs. "You coming?"

"In a minute," his eyes had gone back to the blonde girl. Kirihara rolled his eyes and raced to get this newest lead before anyone could cover it up.

* * *

Grissom and Sara stood behind Brass as the captain knocked on the door. "Las Vegas Police, we have a search warrant."

Tentatively, the door opened, revealing a boy who for a second Grissom took to be the twin of the victim. He had the same raggedly cut dark hair and small frame, an almost eerie resemblance. One thing was sure, he was far too short to be the same person on the security tapes. His eyes were downcast as he stammered in hesitant English. "Mr. Sakaki isn't here right now."

"We're not here to talk to your coach," Brass stated. "We have a warrant to search this room. Could you please step out?"

The boy glanced behind him, then down the hallway, almost as though he were searching for someone. His next words were in Japanese, "I'm not supposed to let anyone inside without Coach's permission, but…"

Grissom nodded, and walked past the boy, leaving him under Brass's supervision. Sara followed into a nondescript hotel room and swept the place with the beam of her flashlight. She noticed the corner of a suitcase sticking out from under one of the beds. With a gloved hand, she carefully pulled the case out from under the bed and opened it.

"Woah."

"What is it?" asked Grissom, looking up from the nightstand he was investigating.

"We have a collector," Sara managed. She shifted the suitcase to get a better view as Grissom circled the bed. Inside was what must have been the largest collection of Ryoma Echizen memorabilia on the planet. One corner contained stacks of photos: nearly all of them of the victim playing tennis, but a few shots in a school uniform or eating hamburgers at a fast food dive. Underneath it were yearbooks dating back to elementary school. There were dozens of used tennis balls, neatly arranged in dated canisters and balanced on a stack of towels that didn't smell particularly clean. There were also a selection of t-shirts and wristbands, none of which Sara expected to find belonged to Taichi Dan.

And then the contents got weirder.

Used hairbrushes, toothbrushes, empty cans of grape soda, and a stuffed animal in the shape of a Himalayan cat.

"Why would he want to kill him if he was such a big fan?" Sara asked.

Grissom picked up one the photos, Echizen in mid-swing, Fila cap on his head. He studied it intently for a few moments, and then said, "He didn't want to kill him. He wanted to become him."

He stood up, heading back into the hallway where Brass was waiting with kid. "You're going to want to hear this," the captain said, "Tell the CSI's your name, please."

The boy blinked, then quietly answered, "Echizen Ryoma desu."

* * *

Sara sat down at the conference table across from Grissom and between Catherine and Greg.

"Are we sure we have the right suspect? I know he was a creepy fan, but he seems a little small to have strangled our victim." Greg began.

"Not to mention, our video suspect is at least six feet tall," Catherine interjected. "Dan is only five three."

"Dan didn't actually kill Echizen… directly. He was obsessed with Echizen to the point that he wanted to take over his identity. Even now we can't get him to say anything about himself. But he couldn't actually get rid of the real Echizen by himself. Archie found evidence of a transaction on Dan's computer between him and another party. Incidentally, the amount corresponds exactly to the amount Atobe reported stolen."

"Murder for hire?" Sara asked.

"Do we know who yet?" Catherine asked.

"Not yet. The killer covered his identity fairly well, but Brass is holding the team until we know more."

As if on cue, Brass strode into the room, a determined scowl on his face. "Apparently one of the team members didn't want to talk to us. He skipped town sometime between yesterday evening and this morning." He looked at the name on his notepad, frowned at it, and passed it to Grissom.

Grissom studied it for a moment, then looked up at Sara. "Kiyosumi Sengoku."


	12. Chapter 12

**Serve and Volley**

_Chapter Twelve: In which events come to a close of sorts, and TrozInc. fangirls out. Excuse us..._

_A/N: sniff Our last author's note. Well, we began this story as a joke some 17 months ago, and now we' re finally finished just in time for the EB to flee the country. Yes, we are slackers. Yes, we apologize. But we hope you like the ending anyway because it is the entire reason we wrote this damn thing. Actually the next 2 scenes were written in February of 07... so that should tell you something._

_We as always would like to give mad crazy thanks to the people who kept reading this over the time and even more mad crazy thanks (and possibly some waffles) for the people who left reviews and ventured guesses on the identity of the killer. For more wacky CSI and Tennis fun, check out microgirl and ellipsesandit's profiles respectively. Strangely enough, they are both listed under our favorite authors! We're not sure if we'll be doing another joint fic anytime soon as we'll be even more spread out than ever before, but never fear. We shall at least pursue our individual fandoms in the pursuit of truth, love, and service._

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TROZ Inc. Fangirls Out!

At the end of it all, they still couldn't prove it.

The search of Sengoku's room revealed plenty of fingerprints, but nothing to compare them with. It revealed racquet string of the same width, brand, and consistency of the type used to murder Echizen, but they couldn't make a physical match with any actual murder weapon. And they couldn't get a confession out of the suspect because the suspect was nowhere to be found. A man fitting Sengoku's description had won a modest amount at a casino and hadn't been heard from since. Brass was on the case, but the prospects weren't good.

It was another frustratingly open case in Sara's career. At least they hadn't put an innocent person in jail, she thought, thinking of the quiet and altogether too perceptive boy.

She stepped out into the too bright sunlight, shading her eyes against the glare. All she wanted in the world was to go home, shake the case off a little, and hopefully convince Grissom to cook some of his signature waffles when she noticed the parked taxi in front of the building. Waiting patiently beside it stood the tennis player who had caused her so many headaches over the last few days and his stoic coach. Noticing her, Fuji smiled and jogged up the sidewalk toward her.

"I just wanted to apologize," he began. "I know I made your job rather difficult. But thank you."

"You're welcome," Sara replied, amused. "I think I 'understand your situation.'"

Fuji laughed under his breath. "I thought you would." He glanced back at where Tezuka had started wandering down the sidewalk. "It's worth it, anyway."

Sara followed his eye line. "Seems kind of aloof to me,"

"You have no idea," Fuji answered, still smiling.

Sara considered this. "Yeah, I do actually."

Fuji looked back to her, almost challenging. "It took me three years to get him to kiss me."

"Try six."

Now the boy looked impressed. "He sometimes goes three, four days without saying a complete sentence."

"Holds entire conversations without using a single word of his own."

"Whose idea of a romantic evening out is sneaking onto the school courts to play tennis."

"Weekend picnic: wine, cheese, strawberries – all used to lure ants to the picnic blanket.

"They both look nice in their glasses, though."

Sara laughed. At that point, curiosity got the best of Sara. "How did you figure us out anyway?"

"The elevator," Fuji answered with a smirk.

Sara blinked. "Elevator?"

"Back at the hotel. I saw the two of you get on the elevator together. He bumped into your shoulder as the doors were closing, and you didn't step away. In fact, you smiled." Fuji looked rather pleased with himself. "Oldest trick in the book. I use it myself quite frequently."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "And you got "someone you'd do anything to protect" from a shoulder bump?"

"Actually, at that point I was grabbing at any sort of straw. But it worked."

Sara shook her head, chuckling at this presumptuous kid.

* * *

Grissom left the lab through one of the side exits, prepared to go home and peruse case files over a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He caught sight of Sara talking with the boy from the Echizen case. Subconsciously, a smile crossed his face. Sara appeared to be laughing, and Grissom wondered what the two of them could find so amusing after the ordeal of the last few days. He'd have to ask her later, he thought, as he continued down the walk.

Tezuka leaned against the cab, looking bored and somewhat impatient. He nodded to acknowledge Grissom's presence. Grissom nodded back.

"Ohayo," Grissom began, continuing in Japanese, "Are you two leaving today?"

Looking somewhat relieved to be able to respond in his native language, Tezuka answered, "Not if Fuji doesn't get back to the cab before our flight." A pause while he watched Fuji's conversation. "Have you found Sengoku yet?"

"We're doing everything we can to find him." Grissom knew better than to make empty promises.

Tezuka nodded. "Thank you for your help. And your … discretion."

"You're welcome," Grissom replied. "You'll be able to continue coaching?"

"The tour's been cut short, but I will be returning to Seigaku, yes. Fuji also."

"So you two are…okay?"

"He will be." Tezuka watched Fuji chattering happily with the other investigator. "He'll act fine until the worst is over anyway. But he recovers quickly."

"That's not what I meant," Grissom answered with a smirk.

The coach turned with one raised eyebrow to Grissom. "As okay as we ever are. The situation has always been … complicated."

"Wallace Stevens once said, 'Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.'"

"It would have fewer headaches, though," Tezuka sighed.

"But you'd be missing out on a few other things, ne?" Fuji said, slipping an arm around Tezuka's. The coach didn't appear surprised. "As animated as I'm sure this conversation is, we do have a plane to catch." Sara moved to stand next to Grissom, still laughing to herself.

Grissom gave the two of them a short bow. The two repeated the gesture, thanked them again, and slid into the taxi.

"So, do you agree with what the coach said?" Sara asked, giving away a slight insecurity by crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, but they make ibuprofen for that."

Sara glanced around before playfully bumping his shoulder with hers. "So I was thinking about breakfast…"

* * *

EPILOGUE:

"Come on, captain. You've got to get me out of here," Sengoku whined, peering over his sunglasses at a couple of blonde girls in bikini's walking down the coastline.

"There's nothing I can do, Kiyosumi. You screwed up, and you'll have to pay the consequences for a while." Sengoku could see the captain shaking his head in disapproval. "It was supposed to be such an easy job, too. An inside favor for the heir to our financier. I'd expect more out of someone with your reputation."

"Everybody has an unlucky day," Sengoku sighed. "And that kid is more trouble than he's worth, however good a client his father is. But, Minami, I'm broke, I'm ten thousand miles from home, and I can't show my face for a while. Can't you help a friend out?"

"We are not friends. And I can't do anything for you when it's this hot. May I suggest a part time job? And try not to gamble it all away this time." The line clicked dead.

Minami was way too uptight. Besides, Sengoku had just had a little bit of fun at the casinos before the kid ratted him out. He would have bounced back and tripled his earnings if he'd had a little more time. His horoscope said success would only come through patience this week.

But there were worse places to be stuck than California. He had enough fake identification and leftover cash to keep him afloat for a little while with some part time work. A quick glance around revealed a "Now Hiring" sign in the window of a small florist shop on the corner. Straightening the collar on his pineapple print Hawaiian shirt, Sengoku adopted a lazy strut towards the establishment. Opening the door, he made an elaborate bow to the cute check-out clerks. "Ladies, I understand you are in need of some assistance."

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_The END!!_

_P.S. Anybody out there understand the reason EB worked this hard to get Sengoku into a florist shop?  
_

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